


The One With The Back-Seat Drama

by kjstark



Series: The adventures of The Holy Trinity and The Token White Guy [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (i mean it is for the most part but like the end it's not how it was completely), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Crack, Gen, Mostly Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-OT4, but like it can be read as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjstark/pseuds/kjstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T’Challa has never considered himself a funny man, so he enjoys their shenanigans, most of the times.</p><p>Not all the times, though. Not right now. When Bucky keeps talking about how he is a hundred years old and Sam has no respect for the elderly whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With The Back-Seat Drama

**Author's Note:**

> This is......a Mess(tm). Mustafars from tumblr sent me a submission with this idea and like..... I rolled with it.  
> English is not my first language so you will most likely see some odd bits. Bear with me. Listen, this is pure crack none of this makes sense just roll with it.

T’Challa doesn’t know how ended up in this situation. And ending up in ridiculous situations has been a tradition for the past few months. Sometimes he’s a tiny bit annoyed at what his life is in these moments but he’s come to accept the cons for the pros of his choices.

You see, this group of men make him feel a certain ease in his chest. When he’s with them, which it’s been a lot, at least in the past three weeks, he doesn’t have to carry the heavy task of filling his father’s shoes, of leading a country, of being a warrior.

Well, that last bit is pure bullshit. These Americans like to call themselves pretty, fictional things like “superheroes”, but T’Challa knows better.  So he’s still a warrior, but he is one with fewer worries at least. Sometimes he fears all these joking might make a situation far worse, but most of the times he finds that that’s the way how most of the people in this broken attempt at a family cope with all their demons.

T’Challa has never considered himself a funny man, so he enjoys _their_ shenanigans, most of the times.

Not all the times, though. Not right now. When Bucky keeps talking about how he is a _hundred_ years old and Sam has no respect for the elderly whatsoever.

“You are just rude, man. It’s not like you’re that God guy, or Steve! Why do you need to move your seat so fucking far back?” Bucky was yelling and then dropped a note by the end. T’Challa was leaning against the driver’s side of his black Audi, Rhodey was mentally making false promises to himself about finding better friends.

Sam on his end was contemplating the outcomes of leaving Bucky’s white ass behind and just getting on with the mission just all three of them.

But given that he didn’t have his wings and Rhodey needed _this_ three hour drive to get to his armor, he guessed they had no other choice but to take Steve’s eternal, old _pet_ along with them.

That however didn’t mean he had to give him the passenger seat.

“Listen, Barnes, I can’t stress this enough,” he made a pause and rubbed his forehead while placing a hand on the truck of the car, Bucky flinched and moved closely, ready to stop Sam if he tried to jump into the seat. “I don’t do back-seat,” Sam finished, with a careful tone.

“That sounds vaguely sexual,” Rhodey mused behind them, from the wall he was leaning on.  “And, either way, a pity. I’m taking the passenger seat,” he informed. T’Challa tried hard not to groan, ten minutes had been since they’ve discussed this.

“What do you two have against me and my people, the olds?” Bucky said in the utter most child-like way T’Challa had ever heard, the irony.

“The olds, really?—“

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. You and Steve text like fucking teenagers —hey, don’t fight me, I got proof— and outran my actually and naturally young ass every fucking Monday. You don’t get to say that,” Sam cut Bucky out.

“Ok but I need—“

Rhodey cut in. “No, _I_ need it. I need to keep my legs straight—

“Now, that’s a task,” Sam muttered, smugly.

“Seriously?” Rhodey turned to him.

“How long are you going to keep playing both sides?” Sam asked but this time he was holding back a laugh. Rhodey crossed his arms and shook his head. T’Challa silently found amusing that they’ve all made enough peace with each other as to crack jokes about the words they said to each other in the war.

“Shut up—“

“Give me the passenger seat and I will—“

“This is ridiculous,” T’Challa stated loudly. They all turned to him. “Just take turns,” he suggested and immediately saw his mistakes.

The flow of words was unbelievable and it got to a point where he couldn’t even make what all of them were saying.

“Children,” he thought, but there was a laugh bubbling up in the back of his throat and T’Challa has very little reasons to laugh lately. Almost all of them he’s got from Sam, Bucky and Rhodey. He shook his head slowly, mostly at himself as he opened up the door and got inside his car.

Even with the windows up and the engine on, he could still hear them.

At one point, Bucky suggested rock, paper, scissors and Sam and Rhodey synced up to smack the back of his head, T’Challa saw the whole scene play out through the window and managed to keep his laugh to a scoff-level.

Exactly four minutes after that T’Challa heard the left back door open and saw Sam sitting behind him through the review mirror, Bucky was breathing heavily as he crossed his arms after Rhodey closed the door. T’Challa sat right as Rhodey got inside and comfortable.

“Drive,” he told T’Challa without looking at him. T’Challa shook his head and huffed.

He had been driving for ten minutes into the road when Sam was grunting and then Bucky was going, “Ow, shit,” before T’Challa had to pull over.

Sam got out of the car faster than he’s ever flown with his wings. As quick as Sam got out so did the rest of the contents of his stomach.

Rhodey was the one to reach him after he seemed to be done. Bucky was only crying a little internally for the floor of this poor, expensive car. T’Challa was concerned if the world was counting on them to ever get anything done.

“Are you okay, Wilson?” T’Challa asked when Rhodey reached Sam, and started patting his back.

Sam only but raised a thumb-up, Bucky would say, sarcastically. Sam spitted the bitter taste off and then looked at Rhodey. “Please, don’t let me be in the back seat,” he asked, dizzy.

“Sam…” Rhodey was almost whining. T’Challa was the one rolling his eyes now.

“Why, Sam?” he asked, their eyes turned to him.

“…being in a car makes me feel, uhm, funny, like, you know, just a bit anxious-y,” he confessed, aiming for a funny tone.

“Seriously—”

“Ok, come with me,” T’Challa cut Rhodey’s complain and turned to the car again.

“”Ok”?” Rhodey yelled back at him. T’Challa turned around in a second and gave Rhodey a look. “Ok,” he sighed.

When they reached the car they found Bucky dropping vomit-wet tissues in the truck of the car, all three of them stood still in disgust. “What? I know it’s not great but I had to make do. All this guy had was some car tissues in what I seriously don’t expect to be a golden tissue holder, because, seriously? Tacky ‘challa,” he told them. Rhodey wasn’t amused. T’Challa wasn’t amused. Sam blinked slowly.

“I can’t believe you cleaned that up,” Sam said, holding back a ‘yuch’ sound.

“Seriously? I’ve endured seventy years of torture. I mean, yeah, this is disgusting but cleaning up a friend’s vomit isn’t the worst that’s ever happened to me,” he said. “Besides, I’m probably the one that gave you the trauma about car rides anyway,” he finished, waving his hand like it wasn’t a big deal.

“That’s strangely sweet, there, Bucky,” Sam said, frowning but with a smile. Bucky shrugged in response.

“You two need therapy,” Rhodey said.

“I agree,” T’Challa supplied.

Rhodey ran to sit on Bucky’s previous side in the back and pushed the button of the door down, Bucky knocked twice on the window before he understood Rhodey was telling him to go the other way.

Sam was buckling up when Bucky opened the door. “No fucking way,” he yelled from outside. Rhodey raised both of his arms in a helpless gesture.

“Just get in the car, Barnes. We’re late already,” T’Challa said. Sam was trying not to smile on his seat.

“Fine,” he said with a devilish grin that made Rhodey automatically lose his. Bucky crawled inside the car and sat in the middle, his legs to the right side, his thigh pushing against Rhodey’s. He kept wiggling his hip to the right side all the way ‘til Rhodey was pushing hard against the door.

“Oh, c’mon!” Rhodey yelled. Sam turned on the radio and T’Challa nodded in agreement to him. “Move over, Barnes, I swear to God,” he warned.

“That was my seat,” Bucky shot, pushing his shoulder against Rhodey’s.

“Yeah, well, my ass is on it now, Sheldon,” Rhodey tried for that only one reference of a tv show he knew.

Bucky stopped his wiggling, “Alright,” he said, again in a devilish tone. Rhodey was ready to glare at him once he was far away enough but Bucky just up and threw himself on Rhodey’s lap.

Rhodey’s light yelp made Sam turn the music louder. Which only made Rhodey scream more, “He’s sitting on me, Sam!”

“Good for both of ya’!” Sam screamed back.

The back-hand-slapping-on-back-hand battle lasted for an entire song before Rhodey shoved Bucky to the other side with an exasperated sigh.

“Fucking child,” he breathed, fixing his red polo shirt. Bucky frowned deeper and then bit his lower lip. Rhodey was looking up to the front when Bucky carelessly put his feet on Rhodey’s lap. Rhodey snapped his head in his direction quickly.

“Oh, c’mon, you got your space, just don’t make me put my feet there,” he asked, almost pouting. Rhodey held Bucky’s  gave before he gave up.

“I hate you,” Rhodey whispered before putting his hands on top of Bucky’s feet.

“Why do I even hang out with you lot, that’s what I wonder,” T’Challa said right before Sam told all of them to shut up because Anaconda was on.

**Author's Note:**

> Hail the Holy Trinity and their Token White Guy. Hit me up in tumblr (url's buckyrhodey) and yell at me about Civil War.


End file.
